What I Want
by Starbuck0322
Summary: A woman tired of the games. A woman tired of the drama. How long had it been since she was happy? She was scared to count the months. But why was she any different? Why couldn't she have exactly what she wanted?  Romance/Resolved Angst


_What I Want_

_

* * *

_

Safe within the shadows of the downcast night, Gillian Foster stood gripped by the darkness of the street. The night's air clung to her long coat; her gloved hands shoved deep within her pockets.

She watched as Cal Lightman paraded around; walked the busy scene before her. The emergency vehicles' flashing lights bounced off the buildings around them; echoed their sharp light in the surrounding glass windows.

She sighed loudly, watched her breath rise above her in the night's cool air. She tapped her foot, cocked her head.

Frustrated with his antics of late, she watched as Cal continued to dance through the sea of people; Detective Sharon Wallowski close by his side.

Not once did he look toward her; not once did he wonder why she was not by his side.

She grew impatient. The feeling in her toes diminished, she turned a heel and walked toward their company car.

Opening the passenger side car door, she pulled her long winter coat in behind her, tucking its tails under her neatly. She fumbled to remove her thin gloves, leaned over to turn the car on.

Instantly the vents blew icy air on her, sending a shiver to run up her spine. She buried her chin and nose deep within her coat, relished at the feeling of warmth against her face.

In a few moments the car pumped warmth, the windows fogged around her.

The driver's side door opened and Cal plunked himself into his seat, rubbing his hands together. Her door opened as well and she was greeted by Wallowski who poked her head into the car.

"Oh!" Wallowski said. "Gillian. Had no idea you were here."

Gillian smiled casually and reached forward to take the door's handle. Wallowski leaned back. Gillian closed the door.

The door opened behind her and Wallowski sat. Cal turned the engine.

Cal looked toward Gillian, his sights fell on her hands tucked within her pockets. "To be honest, I had no idea you were here either."

Gillian glared, reached over her shoulder to take her seat belt in hand.

"What's the plan?" she asked, turning toward Cal.

Cal wrapped his arm around her seat and looked behind him, pulling out of their parking spot.

"Two suspects. We'll shake them back in The Cube. Whatta ya say, Shazzer?" Cal asked turning to the back seat. "Good cop, insane cop per usual?"

Sharon smiled. "More like Good Cop, Cranky Weirdo British Cop."

Gillian turned to the passing streetlights out her window.

* * *

Gillian sat back in her chair. The Cube illuminated in front of her, Cal did his usual song and dance, invading personal space, acting like your friend one minute, your accuser the next.

Gillian had seen this song and dance act enough times, she had memorised the script. Cal toyed with Wallowski, utilised her techniques to his advantage. He pulled strings; he pushed buttons.

His hand to Wallowski shoulder; his palm to her lower back.

He moved around her with perfect awkward grace; never missing a beat, never fumbling a line.  
Wallowski sat in her chair, her arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles.

True, she did not resemble Gillian, and true, she was missing the obvious clues Cal was feeding her. All Gillian could think was, _"I can do this better."_

When the interview was complete and the accusers sat in disbelief, Cal and Wallowski exited The Cube. They walked side-by-side, sharing close comforts, breathing one another in.

Neither made eye contact with Gillian before exiting the room.

* * *

Gillian sat at her desk, listened for the familiar echoing of Cal Lightman's shoes down the tiled hallway.

She listened intently, her door open to its fullest.

She did not type. Did not pick up her phone.

And suddenly, a voice echoed louder than their footsteps; the joyful laughter of Sharon Wallowski, the deep tone of Cal Lightman.

They turned the corner and exited the front doors of The Lightman Group.

Gillian leaned back in her chair and shuffled uncomfortably through the papers on her desk.

* * *

A freshly tailored red dress to hug her curves. A pair of patent leather pumps.

Gillian Foster sat cross legged in Cal Lightman's house, surrounded by The Lightman Group and one Sharon Wallowski.

She looked up suddenly; noticed as Cal's eyes trailed her legs.

_Had that been the first time? The first time in months?  
_

Cal Lightman was falling into her plan. Yes, for the first time in months, he had looked at her; had noticed her efforts.

He swallowed uncomfortably; watched as she reached for her glass, followed her movements as she brought it to her lips and sipped the dark liquid.

He saw her swallow, watched the liquid trail down her long throat. Mesmerizing himself with the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

Gillian held his eyes; held the comfort in his stare.

How she had missed it; craved for it, relished in this small moment he was giving; only for her.

Causing her to flick her heel, flex her calf muscle.

He was following her every movement.

And as quickly it was in its onset, the quicker it left. Sharon Wallowski re-entered the living room and perched herself on the chair to his right, begged his attention.

Cal Lightman swallowed again.

* * *

Gillian placed her hands under the warm water and rubbed them together. She looked up into the vanity mirror, took a moment to take in the tired woman in front of her.

A woman tired of the games. A woman tired of the drama.

_How long had it been since she was happy?_

She was scared to count the months.

But why was she any different? Why couldn't she have exactly what she wanted?

* * *

Light illuminating from the bedroom of Cal Lightman, Gillian Foster followed it, padding softly down the hallway. She pushed on his door and it creaked against her force.

Shirtless he turned to her. "You the last, Foster?"

She walked toward him slowly, nodded. "I think so. I just wanted to touch base before I left."

Cal smiled as she neared him, wrung his shirt in his hands. "I ever tell you how lovely you look in red."

She smiled shyly, watched as he toyed nervously with the fabric in his hands. "As a matter of fact, you never have Cal."

He sighed taking another step forward. "Well I should. Should say it more, that is."

"Yes, you should."

"And I will."

"You can start right now."

"Foster," he said smiling, lightly placing her elbows in his palms. "You look lovely in that dress."

Her face flushed, heat rising to her cheeks. "And what about black?"

"Black?"

She took her elbows from his palms; let his hands fall from her body. She reached for her side finding the dress' zipper and lowered it slowly. She watched as his face changed, watched the creases fall from his features, watched his eyes grow wide with wonderment.

She slid the zipper down in one movement and gently let the dress fall from her body. It fell to pool at her feet and she stepped from it. She held his eyes as he took in her black laced bra and panty.

"How do I look in black?"

He swallowed again; a small noise escaped the back of his throat. "Delicious."

His hands were silent by his side and she instantly grew cold in his hesitation. She took another step toward him, trailed her hands up his chest to raise her arms around his neck.

"Gill..."

Her breath grew heavy as her heartbeat quickened within her chest. "Don't Cal," she cooed. "Don't Gill-me tonight." She brought her lips to his earlobe and suckled gently; trailed a line of kisses down his jaw, nibbling lightly. She leaned back, cupped his face with delicate fingers. "Touch me," she whispered and took his lips.

Returning her kiss, he cupped her ass and trailed his hands up her back. He faded in and out, caught heavy in the kiss. Realisation stirred within him.

"I can't," he choked releasing her, instantly regretting his decision.

"Why?" she asked, brow furrowing.

"Because it frightens me."

"I frighten you?"

"It does, Gill."

"It?" She shook her head lightly.

"Losing you."

She sighed, breath shallow. "Cal..."

"I can't risk it. I won't."

"You won't lose me." She placed her palms against his chest, relished in the heat that rose to her fingertips.

"You don't know that," he whispered, afraid of the honesty that fell off his tongue. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

"Pretty sure I've seen you at your worst, Cal."

Pain traced across his face, worry flooded his features. "I don't think you have," he sighed. "I've never pushed you away before."

"Then don't start now." She wrapped her arms around him, begged him to hold her. She pressed her forehead to his chin. "Don't do this to me."

"Gill..."

She leaned back suddenly, her face twisting with the torture within her. "No. I've had just about enough of you feeling sorry for yourself Cal. I'm tired of waiting. Tired of..." Her hands moved on his skin. Found his chest again. "Look..." she continued. "You're so caught up in what might happen you're afraid to take the leap. That's not the Cal I know and love."

"Like I said. You're different."

"And what about me, Cal? What about what I want?"

He shook his head. "I can't let you."

"Let me what?"

"Let you love me." His hands fell from her body.

Tears welled in her eyes."It's too late for that." She grabbed his hands, replaced them on the sides of her body.

He trailed her flesh, let the goosebumps rise under his fingertips. She shuddered and smiled at him in her weakness. She leaned into him, pressed her body against him.

"Can you feel it?" She asked and placed her lips to his ear; warm breath trailed his skin.

"I feel you," he oozed.

"Every inch of me wants you, Cal." She let a tear trail her face.

He pulled her face back, took her lips feverishly.

She sighed into his mouth, reached behind her and unclasped her bra. "Let me in," she soothed.

Free before him, his hands flew to cup her in an instant. He trailed gentle fingertips over the crest of her breasts, thumbed her nipples until they were hard and she moaned hungrily.

His eyes soaked her in; he breathed her hair as they ran hands over unfamiliar flesh. He pressed his cheek to her face, lowered himself slowly down her body, never leaving contact with her skin. He fell to his knees at her feet, drew her closer to him.

She was aching; felt powerful in his hands. She froze in the moment; let him devour her with his mouth. She felt her knees buckle beneath her, felt his hands reach up to support her ass.

His hot breath seeped through her black lace and she gasped suddenly. He trailed kisses along her panty line and her knees buckled again.

"Cal..." she moaned as his fingertips dipped beneath the black lace. "Cal," she repeated urgently.

Cal pulled his lips away from her inner thigh, looked up from his knees. "Yes, love."

She smiled at him, a tightness gripping her middle. "If you keep going like that, I'm sure to fall over."

Cal smiled leaning forward. He pressed his lips into her and when her knees grew weak for a third time, she collapsed against him. He was quick to support her and he rose to his feet. Her arms wrapped around him and her flesh met his. He held her to him for a moment, lingered in the sensation of her breasts pressed against him.

He kissed her gently wrapped his tongue around hers; wet and warm. She was tangy, sweet, completely beautiful in her vulnerability and she clung to him with urgency.

Gillian Foster was not leaving him tonight. Tonight, he would find home.

He pulled from her, watched his hand as it trailed her body, passing between her breasts down her abdomen.

"Every inch, darling?" he questioned dipping his fingertips beneath the seam of her panties. He found her hot, wet, inviting. She gasped as he found her trigger; blushed at her weakness, with how quickly the liquid heat shot through her.

She wondered if anyone had ever done that before? Had known her more completely? Could look deep within her as he did now; saw her naked desire more clearly.

She clawed his flesh; gasped as another wave flooded her body.

She felt like a schoolgirl, gripped by her first crush for the first time. She felt new, wondrous, whole.

Wild passion gripped her abdomen in a fury. Her lip quivered as she fought for breath.

"I want you," he whispered as he drew her to him.

"Oh God, Cal." Another heated wave shook her fiercely.

She smelled delicious; her passion gripped his chest. He lifted her, held tightly to her ass for support. She wrapped her legs around him.

They fell onto the bed together and she welcomed the sensation of his weight above her, at his heaviness as he pressed himself against her inner thigh.

He removed his jeans without instruction, returned to her quickly. He bowed low, trailed gently kisses up her leg. When he reached her thigh he was careful, looked up at her to see her staring back at him; eyes dark and passionate.

"I have no words," he said. "For these."

"My legs?" she whispered.

He suckled her inner thigh, nibbled her gently. His breathing increased as he reached her middle.

Reaching beneath the fabric he stroked her gently, wet against his fingertips. He pressed his tongue against her, suckled her pink flesh. Her hips tightened in his grip, and he reached beneath her to support her, never removing his lips from his task.

She tightened, and gripped to him. She called his name. He breathed heavy, hot, spoke low against her. She shook, she shivered, and when the climax hit her suddenly, she reached forward and took his hair in her grasp.

He let her aroma envelope him, promising himself that he would never let it go. That if Heaven existed, some part of it, if not all of it, was the woman who writhed above him; whose every essence of her being had lead her to him.

He took a moment as he pulled from her to kiss her abdomen which restricted tightly under his touch. Her chest rose and fell erratically.

He wondered if he seen anything more beautiful in its vulnerability.

_Yes,_ he thought to himself, _Cal Lightman, you are one lucky bugger._

She looked at him suddenly. Eyes wide, she grinned seductively and he wondered if he had spoken aloud just then.

"You're gorgeous, darling. I don't say it enough."

"You mean that or are you saying that cause I'm stark naked?"

"I'm saying it because it's the truth, love." He smiled dipped low to hover over her body. "That and you are incredibly naked." He kissed her neck. "And in my bed." He suckled her earlobe; felt her knee rise uncontrollably.

He trailed her neck with kisses; pressed his teeth into her gently. She gasped, nails digging into his flesh. He pulled back, relished in the sensation. He returned to her neck, suckled the same spot he had nipped.

He trailed her neckline, to the crest of her breast and sunk his teeth into her again, this time gentler, slower. He tongued her, pricked and prodded; suckled her nipple fiercely until it became too sensitive and she pulled his face away.

"Oh god Cal," she said as his fingers dipped into her, explored her heated folds.

She writhed beneath him, fought with positioning so she could align her body with his. She gripped him with her thighs begging for him to dive into her.

He read the anticipation on her face, smiled at her hunger. He kissed her forcefully, took her bottom lip between his teeth.

He pushed in her slowly, enticed further by the warm, wet sensation.

Long and hard within her, she clenched her muscles, tightened around him. He moaned, fell forward on her slightly having to catch himself; lock his elbows.

Braced safely above her, he rocked into her, pushed their pace forward, quickening their breath with each pump of his hips.

She lost the concentration in their kiss and drew back to look at him; let him see her gripped by her passion.

Intimacy held them for a moment, lost in their movements, in the darkness of their eyes. Her mind drew blank; his sight burst with light.

And finally when the compulsion over-whelmed her, she released on him and her hips fell limp, exhausted. She gasped, sputtered as she attempted to form a few words. Her body tingled. The heat flooded over her in a second wave and she shuddered as it passed, prickling the hair on her arms.

He was silent above her, waited for her to catch her breath. He found her neck, kissed her gently where her flesh was beginning to rise in the places where he had nipped her. She was red, raw beneath his lips. His tongue and the sensation brought her back to him.

She turned her head, found his lips, his tongue which continued to search her mouth hungrily. She paused against his lips, looked down his body, clenched her sore muscles to find him still hard within her.

"Cal..."

He smiled at her. "Yes, love." He pushed within her slowly; breathed her in as she gasped slightly.

"Have you not..."

"Not yet..."

_She would have blushed if she could_, she thought.

He brushed his hand across the thin line of sweat that formed on her brow. He pumped slowly within her again, rocked her carefully. He lifted himself on his hands, bed sheets within his grasp.

She reached up to trail her fingers over him, pressed her nails into his skin gently. She braced against him, watched intently as his orgasm rolled through his features.

He fell beside her in a heap, reached to pull her limp body into his arms. She shivered again and they drew the blankets over their tired bodies.

He pulled the hair back from his face; traced lines down her earlobe with gentle fingertips.

"Gillian Foster," he whispered. "In my arms."

"In your bed."

"Bingo!" he exclaimed pushing her back beneath him playfully. He kissed the bridge of her nose, kissed her as she smiled; lips tight.

He pulled back, grin wide, white teeth showing. She watched as his smile faded, expression turning serious.

"What?" she asked, pushed back further into the pillow.

His eyes grew soft, lips pressed together. "You sure, love," he said softly. "You sure this is what you want."

"You think I'd be here if I didn't?" she paused, watched as the snicker came to his face. "Don't answer that."

He looked at her innocently. "You never know."

She sighed at his childishness, shook her head slowly. He certainly had not changed.

"Yes, Cal," she soothed. "You are exactly what I want." She moved her hands on his back, felt him sticky beneath her touch.

He smiled, kissed her again. "I'm glad," he said. "I love you, Gillian."

She inhaled quickly, eyes growing wide and he wondered if he had said it too soon, while they were all too naked, pressed tightly to one another.

She relaxed, sighed, reached up to kiss him gently. "And I love you," she said. "I don't think I've ever had a choice in that." She watched as his eyes searched her face, watched as he attempted to read her. "I think I've been gravitating toward you since the day we met."

He laughed slightly. "I like having you around too, love."

He leaned forward, sucked on the flesh on her neck. She hit him playfully, felt him heavy above her as he attempted to squirm away from her playful attacks.

"It's more than that, Cal!" she screamed as he played with the inside of her leg.

He paused, leaned back surrendering.

She sighed again as her brow furrowed. "I need you."

The words tugged at his heart, pulled at his middle, and she read it across his face, read the love that she had always seen but now knew as truth.

He pressed his lips to her again, ran his tongue against hers. He melted against her rolling onto his side. He wrapped an arm around her.

"I need you, too."

She smiled wide, cheekbones rising, lines formed. She pressed her forehead to his chin, inhaled slowly. "I love this feeling," she said honestly. Her fingertips drew small circles on his skin. "I missed it."

"What's that?" he questioned.

She tilted her head back, kissed his chin. "This sense of belonging." She paused reading the love in his eyes. "Like I'm home."


End file.
